


addiction

by Nyaruki



Category: Keyakizaka46 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scratching, i don't really know what kind of au this is it's just kinda fucked up, monarisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyaruki/pseuds/Nyaruki
Summary: She wants to see more red.





	addiction

**Author's Note:**

> hi. it's me again, polluting the keyaki tags.  
> i have 5+ other fics to finish, but instead i bring you vague, filthy monarisa that my sleep deprived brain came up with. i'm so sorry.  
> enjoy. :”)

This must be what drugs feel like.

Not that Risa has ever tried using any sort of illegal substances, mind you, so this is just her making an uneducated guess. It’s just… this girl. This girl is so ridiculously addictive, Risa thinks she might as well _be_ a drug.

She thinks that when a pair of fluffy lips press into hers immediately after she locks the door to her small apartment. She didn’t really consider the possibility of bringing girls over when she first rented it, the fact that it’s cheap and close to campus being her top priority, so the first time she took this girl home she felt a bit self-conscious over how plain it is. She never seemed to mind, though. In fact, Risa wonders if she’s even spent a second to actually look at her surroundings, given how it always seemed like the sound of the lock clicking shut is practically equal to a “start” signal in the girl’s head.

She lets the girl push her up against a wall and she already feels hotter than she’s really meant to at this point. It’s not like she’s some sort of fumbling virgin, kissing isn’t supposed to be quite _this_ exciting. Yet her heart is trying to leap out of her ribcage anyway and her palms are sweaty as she digs them into the girl’s shoulders. Her kisses are always so hungry, so _greedy_ , as if she’s trying to steal Risa’s breath away from her and swallow it down.

She would let her. She would let her take everything away from her, but she subconsciously tenses her fingers against her shoulders in a way that makes her nails sink into the girl’s collarbones once the lack of oxygen becomes too much. The girl gasps into her mouth, apparently feeling the pain even through her clothes, and she takes the hint, pulling away but still lingering close enough for Risa to be able to feel the phantom touch of her lips.

How did things become like this again? Risa ponders as she forces herself to focus on the large, darkened eyes gazing back at her and tries to catch her breath. It’s been, how long, not even a full two months? Since _that one time_ , the time she first met her, staggering aimlessly through the seedier streets of Shinjuku. Without knowing even the first thing about her, Risa had reached out to her, and then… No matter how hard she tries to remember, she still can’t piece together what started all of this, but she thinks she saved the girl that night.

Well, maybe. She doesn’t want to give herself too much credit. But whether she truly saved her or not, Risa most likely ended up losing herself in the process. It probably wouldn’t be a lie to say that she can’t live without doing this anymore, and she still doesn’t know anything but the girl’s first name and some LINE address that doesn’t even have a photo, possibly suggesting that it’s just a throwaway account created for ambiguous purposes. (Risa could chance a guess as to the reason, it’s just that she doesn’t want to.)

So little information, yet it’s never fallen short of just enough between the two of them. They seek each other through a simple text message, and as soon as it gets marked read, that’s confirmation enough that the feeling is mutual. Calling out her name, _Manaka_ , is what puts Risa under a spell, convinces her temporarily that she is _hers_ , that whatever their relationship is doesn’t exist on borrowed time.

“Risa.”

Manaka’s voice is impatient as she pulls Risa back out of her thoughts. Ah, that’s right. Now’s not the time to get distracted. Risa grabs Manaka’s wrist and roughly pries her hand away from the wall, slipping out from between the girl’s body and the wall behind her, then forcefully yanks Manaka’s arm in the direction of the bedroom. Manaka follows willingly, but somehow ends up being half-dragged anyway.

The few seconds it takes to reach their destination feel like _not fast enough_ and by the time Manaka is finally backed against the bed, Risa wastes no more time pushing her that one extra step that makes her knees give out and her body sink sideways across the bed. Across smooth white bedsheets. White like Manaka’s skin, deceptively pure. The girl is so pale she almost blends into them, but her hair is red and her lips are red and she’s wearing all black.

Risa doesn’t like the black, but the contrast is _bewitching_.

Manaka’s pale hand reaches out to her and curls around her arm, this time pulling Risa downwards sharply. Risa loses her balance and falls on top of her, sharp bones colliding with tender flesh and they’re probably both going to have bruises tomorrow because of this, but it really doesn’t matter, because they’re finally pressed up against each other again.

Their tongues meet once more, heated, melting together, and Risa starts unbuttoning Manaka’s shirt as carefully as she possibly can. She gives up on that idea after the second button and treats the remaining ones with a lot less care, breaking the kiss once she’s done so she can tear the garment off the girl’s body. Shirt discarded, the amount of black decreases, replaced by the white of Manaka’s abdomen.

She wants to see more red.

Risa sinks her teeth into Manaka’s protruding collarbone, almost hard enough to draw blood, and in response, the girl’s nails definitely dig deep enough into Risa’s back to break the skin. At some point her hands had hooked underneath Risa’s shirt and when Manaka _pulls_ , Risa obliges and lets herself be stripped. The wounds on her back are pulsating, but the newfound sensation of skin against skin is enough to drown out everything else.

Before they know it, Manaka’s bra is gone too, haphazardly thrown on the ground somewhere, and Risa peppers the soft flesh with bright red bites and hickeys. As if Manaka’s skin is a canvas meant to be painted on, every bruise that blooms on it is a masterpiece in itself. Risa doesn’t know if doing this brings more pain or pleasure to the girl, but she’s never once complained, so Risa never stops, can’t stop. Not with the girl gasping sharply and the way her fingers are squeezing so tightly, teetering at the very edge of cutting into Risa’s shoulder as well.

She slides lower and lower, all the while deftly unzipping Manaka’s jeans, and she can feel abdominal muscles twitching under her tongue in anticipation as she slides it down the smooth expanse that is the girl’s stomach. She bites again and forces her hand inside her underwear at the same time and Manaka’s breath hitches.

She’s _wet_. She gets wetter at that exact moment, Risa feels it against her fingertips. She wants to press inside her, all the way in, just like that, to catch her off-guard. She wonders if Manaka will scream if she does. She kinda wants that. But more than that, she really wants to taste her right now, and as if Manaka already knows that, she lifts her waist off the bed to allow Risa to drag down her jeans and panties at the same time. Risa looks up at Manaka’s eyes, feverish and clouded, yet there’s something indecipherable in her gaze, something that makes Risa grow frustrated. As if she can read through her so easily, but she doesn’t let herself be read. It’s just not fair.

Risa rakes her nails painfully across Manaka’s thigh, but as soon as she feels the girl whimper, as if to replace the pain with pleasure, she drags her tongue along the moist folds in front of her. Finally, Manaka moans openly, for the first time tonight, and Risa can no longer stop herself. Manaka tastes salty and sweet and like everything Risa’s ever wanted, the twitching softness almost burning hot around her tongue. Every moan she can hear from overhead sends little jolts of pleasure through her spine, and even though she’s not being touched at all, she can feel a white fog spreading through her mind, leaving her unable to think.

She alternates between soft circular motions and sucking on Manaka’s clit and pushing her tongue inside her folds, each sensation forcing out a different kind of mewl from the girl’s lips. Risa just can’t get enough of it, presses herself as close as she possibly can to the inviting softness in front of her until her nose is practically buried in the light dusting of hair there. She smells good.

When Manaka’s thighs attempt to shut closed around her head, muscles quivering erratically under the skin, Risa knows she’s close. She can tell she’s even closer when she goes silent, a few flicks of Risa’s tongue away from her soundless orgasm, and when Manaka finally grabs hold of Risa’s hair, it’s over. Manaka’s back arches off the bed, and for a few seconds that feel like an eternity, her _everything_ is shuddering, she can’t breathe. Risa can’t breathe either, but whether it’s because Manaka’s hand is still keeping her firmly pressed against her or because her own head goes white, she doesn’t know and couldn’t care less.

Manaka collapses limply onto the bedsheets, and Risa takes a moment to just look at her in her daze. Her whole body is tinted bright pink, no longer blending in with the sheets, and the perfectly smooth expanse of her abdomen is sprinkled with a variety of marks that look almost painful to the touch, ranging from red to blue to purple. She’s not pure white anymore. Risa’s throat goes dry.

Manaka seems satisfied, but Risa isn’t. The girl looks so perfectly _used_ , and it’s all her fault. So she wants to take responsibility and ruin her even further.

“Manaka.”

She knows none of this will last anywhere near long enough. By the next time they meet, every single one of these marks will have long since faded. Manaka bruised easily, but she healed just as fast. Even so, Risa doesn’t feel like giving up so easily tonight. She can’t.

Manaka turns to look at her, a bit puzzled. They don’t usually talk right after having sex.

Risa doesn’t say anything more, just leans down to kiss her, as if to say _we’re not done yet_. Without warning, her hand dips down and she finally buries two slender fingers inside her, still wet and welcoming and every bit as hot as she felt against her tongue. Risa feels the girl’s insides tighten almost painfully around her fingers at the sudden intrusion, and Manaka _screams_.

Ah, so she does scream when she’s caught off-guard. Risa decides she wants to hear more of that. Manaka’s arms wrap around her once again and she feels nails tear into her back, digging into old wounds and opening new ones. It hurts. It hurts, but she wants more. More red. More Manaka.

More of her very own drug.

And if that ends up killing her, well... so be it.


End file.
